by T I WADE
Carlos was thanked, the meeting was over and bocas (snacks) were presented by the wait staff. Carlos, his father and Uncle Philippe stood up and the three men were joined by General Rodriquez and the admiral.
“Do you really think that swapping three of my best ships for Gunships is a wise idea?” the admiral asked Uncle Philippe.
“Why not? What have we to lose? America is a good ally to have. The Gunships are far more powerful in guerilla warfare than your ships are, Luiz. Until we have an attack or problem from the ocean, the ships are of no use to us at all. I could speak with my friend in the U.S. Navy, also an admiral, and ask him to accept you as Fleet Commander or Officer Liaison to them and maybe you can help in some way, no?”
“Now that sounds interesting, Philippe. It sounds too boring for me to stay here,” replied the admiral.
“Carlos, do you think this exchange could be a possibility?” asked General Rodriquez.
“I will start work once we return, but I’m owed a few favors and I have the ear of the President and a general in the U.S. Air Force. I’m sure cannibalization of all military and civilian equipment will become high priority worldwide very soon, if it hasn’t started already. There will certainly not be any new military or civilian innovations for years, even decades to come.”
All agreed with Uncle Philippe, who again winked at his younger brother, the general. Carlos noticed and still wondered about it.
“Well, that’s settled,” stated Carlos’ father, Manuel. “Philippe, what is on our agenda for the next couple of days?”
“General Rodriquez, what is our schedule until we depart? We are at your mercy,” asked the ambassador.
“Rest for today, Philippe. Tomorrow is a tour of four of our eight Air Force bases. Day Two is a meeting with the Colombian government here in Bogotá. It will be very dangerous and we must all keep our wits about us. Old spies will be everywhere. We clean all our offices here daily to make sure no new bugs arrive as gifts and we have an old scrambling device active in one of the hangars. It is an old 1970s CIA scrambler which makes any listening devices inactive within one mile of its location. On Day Three, your departure day, we have scheduled a meeting of all our Air Force generals and colonels at our base in Santiago de Cali. I want you to explain the world’s predicament and tell them that the only real enemy is our old enemy, the drug cartels. Then you will head back to the U.S. from there.”
Carlos headed back with the group to the hangar to find Sally asleep in an air-conditioned double room reserved for them. It had a queen-sized bed and he assumed his father or Philippe was up-to-date on his love life. He felt like a siesta and joined her under the bed cover. Still asleep, she snuggled up to him.
Day two was pretty uneventful. Carlos, Sally, Jennifer and the rest of the Gunship crew, apart from doing routine checks on the equipment, opened the rear hatches so the Marines could have the run of the airfield in their two jeeps. The Colombian soldiers were extremely interested in the jeeps, from the simple design of the Miniguns to the armor plates about two feet by two feet and cut around the gun muzzle to protect the shooter. They quickly discussed the possibility of building a few attachments to their own vehicles. Carlos told an interested army colonel that he would look out for any extra Miniguns in the U.S. and send them their way if he found a supply. The more senior men had headed out to visit the four airfields. A Colombian C-130 had flown in to pick them up.
Day three was more interesting. Carlos, included as an aide to Uncle Philippe, went with his father and General Rodriquez to visit the government buildings. There were three divisions of government and the meeting of all three was scheduled under top secrecy. They drove into the grounds in large black civilian cars with tinted windows.
Under heavy guard their cavalcade swept into the gates of a building Carlos did not recognize.
“Casa de Nariño, Nariño Palace, Carlos. Head of government and the President’s residence,” stated Philippe as they stopped in front of the eight stone pillars protecting the large entrance door. There was no guard of honor, nor any ceremony indicating that anyone of importance was arriving. The gates were closed and an old American tank resumed its position directly behind the closed gates. Carlos counted hundreds of Colombian army troops in every direction he looked. As soon as they got out and the cars had driven off, the tank reversed, the gates reopened and a second cavalcade of black sedans entered the gates, this time from the opposite direction.
There were few introductions. Carlos was told to keep his mouth shut and act like an aide. They were guided into a large room where several men well-dressed in suits and military uniforms stood around eating bocas and talking.
A short man walked up to Philippe, his hand outstretched. “Ambassador Rodriquez, it has been a long time,” he stated, looking up and directly into the old ambassador’s eyes. “When was our last meeting? 09 in Cali, I believe.”
“Correct, Mr. President,” replied Uncle Philippe, shaking hands and looking straight into the eyes of the Head of State. He did not look down. “Your daughter’s wedding. How is she? Are you a grandfather yet?”
“Of course, Philippe. A baby boy, a year old!”
“May I introduce my Aide Liaison, my nephew Manuel and my number two aide, his son Carlos?”
They all shook hands copying Philippe’s eye contact.
“The famous Manuel!” the President smiled. “Your mother is a famous figure in this country and a real leader for justice. I met her once, a couple of decades ago when I was a young police officer. A very strong woman. I’m sure you and your son are just as strong. Carlos, you grew up in America I hear?”
“That’s correct, Mr. President, and I wish I had more opportunity to have visited my country of birth.”
“With the dangers here in Colombia, sometimes I wish I could live in America. I heard you grew up in Los Angeles, California, Carlos. Tell me what is it like?” Before Carlos could respond, Philippe drew the President away and started talking quietly to him.
“Word gets around,” whispered Manuel to his son. “We put out that false bit of information nearly twenty years ago.” He smiled at his son.
“Is he trustworthy?” asked Carlos.
“Philippe thinks so,” his father whispered, hiding his mouth and eating a snack with his hand at the same time, “but he was never part of our armed forces and was just another policeman in those days. It’s never him, but somebody else who will use any information they get hold of. You just never know.”
After pleasantries, the congregation of important figures entered into a second room through three sets of security checks where Carlos observed the longest table he had ever seen; he counted 42 chairs placed around it. The room was also lined with chairs along the four walls and Manuel showed his son to one of them. They sat right behind the two chairs occupied by Philippe and his brother, General Rodriquez, the Head of the Colombian Air Force.
Carlos was surprised that many of the people sat in the chairs around the wall rather than at the main table. Admiral Luiz Rodriquez arrived with his aides and sat on the opposite side of the table from his brothers. Another senior military man who Carlos assumed to be commander of the army sat down several chairs from the admiral, and then the chief of the police force filled the chair next to the Admiral. The next two chairs were empty.
By the time order was called, the table still had twelve empty spaces. A third of the chairs around the walls were filled and there was a large gap in one corner.
A roll call was taken. Somebody accounted for the missing occupant of each empty chair around the table. Death or disappearance was the commonly stated reason the chair was empty. Then the members in the rear wall seats stood up one by one to introduce themselves, with the people next to empty chairs explaining why those chairs were not occupied. An entire group designated to sit in the corner had been murdered in an ambush in the mountains in the south of the country. Finally, Carlos and his father spoke their rehearsed lines of introduction. There was a gasp
from several when Manuel stated his name. They all knew him. Carlos was greeted with silence.
For three hours the meeting went forward, discussing the country’s problems, the possible whereabouts of the drug cartels and, most importantly, the protection of the remaining government officials in the room. The commanders in chief of the respective branches of the armed forces stood up and gave reports. Nothing was mentioned by the Rodriquez brothers about their previous meeting. Lastly Uncle Philippe was asked by the President to give a report on the United States and what he knew was happening outside the borders of the country. He spoke for 30 minutes giving an exact description of what he knew had taken place since January 1st. He did not mention anything about Carlos, or the President of the United States, except that they had met and he helped warm up the White House. There was general laughter at this.
“What do you believe is the number of dead in the United States from this catastrophe?” asked the President.
Even Carlos was shocked at the answer.
“Well over 50 percent, Mr. President. The latest assumptions by Washington put the number as high as 60 percent.”
“Sixty percent of 300 million people?” asked the President, shocked.
“No, 60 percent of 330 million people, Mr. President,” replied the Ambassador. “I assume the number could rise even more as the icy cold weather still has a month or two to go before spring.”
“So, Ambassador Rodriquez, you are saying that over 150 million Americans are assumed to be dead? That’s three times our population in the whole of Colombia! Are you sure?” asked the President.
“Those are purely assumptions, Mr. President, but the winter has been extremely cold in the northern areas with snow as far south as Dallas, Texas, a week ago, and the people have very little food or warmth in the northern regions.”
“What about their big armies in the Middle East?” asked the army commander.
“Still stuck in the Middle East,” Uncle Philippe replied. “Thanks to a couple of captured Boeing aircraft from the Chinese invaders, they will start bringing back troops in the foreseeable future.”
“We heard about the attack on America,” stated the Chief of Police. “Also that the country is totally defenseless and in turmoil. Can you enlighten us, please, Mr. Ambassador?” Carlos felt his father stiffen next to him.
“I will respond to that in two answers, Pedro Gonzalez. First, the United States still has nuclear capability; the President told me himself.” Carlos knew that Uncle Philippe was bending the truth. Carlos himself had told Uncle Philippe with the President’s permission. The U.S. did not want to tell the world that it was virtually defenseless. “They know what is going on in Europe, China and Russia. They know that all the smaller wars around the world have ceased for the time being and they will be the first country to get back on their feet and defend themselves. Their Air Force, Army and Marines are regrouping and gaining strength. Their Navy is a little weak, but they have ideas on how to strengthen it and, like us, they have storage facilities and museums filled with old parts to replace the useless Chinese-made electronic parts. My second answer, Pedro, is yes, the whole government and complete military establishments are working 24/7 helping civilians survive and will do so for the next several months or even years. The farmers are being organized and will be ordered by Washington on what to grow next year. They are in a worse situation than here in Colombia due to the severe winter, but they will heal quicker and become strong and powerful again within a year or two. One last point, Mr. President, the United States of America is the only ally to have right now. I was told that Russia and China are far worse off than the United States and both countries could take decades to return to any form of civilization.”
“What about civilian movement across the American borders?” asked another man.
“I’m sorry but I cannot answer that question, Senator Calderón,” replied the ambassador. “All I know is that the remaining American soldiers are being dispersed around the country to fill the void of the decimated police departments and get the country back into order.”
“So the American soldiers are the new American police force?” asked the Chief of Police.
“I believe so,” was the reply.
For another twenty minutes very interesting questions were put to the ambassador. Some were normal, humane questions and some were about troop movements and where and why there was no police force in the United States.
“Before the atrocities they had hundreds of police officers in several different police forces in the same areas, especially around its southern border with Mexico. Where are they now?” asked a man sitting next to Senator Calderón.
Uncle Philippe shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.
Then a question was asked by the Chief of Police that made Manuel stiffen again. “So you are saying that nobody is crossing the southern border from Mexico anymore and that the American border patrol or police are either non-existent, or are helping people in other parts of the country?”
“I’m sorry, Pedro, what I’m saying is that I don’t know. I only know that I’ve heard Mexico is in total disarray south of the U.S. border and that most of the areas around the United States are policed by armed military personnel.”
The meeting ended for lunch, a buffet in the first room. To Carlos it seemed that food was plentiful in Colombia. It was the best spread he had seen since Preston’s New Year’s Eve party in the hangar two months earlier.
By three, they were back at the airport and met briefly in the meeting room they had used the day before. “A very interesting get-together,” stated General Rodriquez, once the admiral had arrived, this time in an old and rusted Volkswagen Beetle, not the fancy limousine that had entered the gate to the palace. The windows were tinted and the admiral sat in the back; he was driven by a man in civilian clothes with a second man holding what looked like an old Tommy gun with a round ammunition barrel such as those used in old Hollywood gangster movies.
“Our friend Senator Calderón asked the questions we anticipated he might ask, Philippe,” stated the general, once coffee had been served and the room vacated by everyone not sitting at the table.
“So did Pedro Gonzalez. I didn’t know they knew each other so well,” added Philippe. “Did you see any eye contact between them? It looked a little rehearsed as there was absolutely no eye contact at all when one or the other asked a question. They were acting as if they hadn’t heard the question, but their aides did, taking a lot of notes behind both men.”
“Is Senator Calderón related to any Calderóns we have met before?” asked Carlos carefully, remembering the story his father had told him during the drive to Washington many years earlier. The men around the table laughed out loud.
“Yes, Carlos, you are as clever as your mother,” laughed Uncle Philippe. “We cannot find out, but José Calderón, the gangster your mother killed, had a large family. We believe that there is a good chance that Senator Calderón is a son or younger brother of that man. José Calderón was in charge of the largest drug gang of the day. He would now be about 85 to 90 years old. Senator Calderón is about seventy, so I believe if he is related, the senator could be a younger brother by fifteen years. First the Medellin Cartel became the strongest gang after Calderón’s death. His cartel disappeared for several years. The Medellin Cartel was slowly overthrown by the Cali Cartel, Escobar and the famous Ochoa brothers who were killed or jailed for life. The Cali Cartel leaders, then the Rodriguez Orejuela brothers, with Santacruz Londono as their battle commander, waged war against all the other gangs until the Florencia Cartel, Calderón’s old gang, resurfaced and the Orejuela brothers were caught and jailed with the help of unknown sources. It was strange that the police claimed they also had Santacruz Londono in custody, but no pictures of him were ever released from prison under orders given by our current police chief, our friend Pedro. Londono was often reported as being seen next to Manuel Calderón, the current leader of the cartel. Remember, Carlo
s, Florencia was our old family headquarters until your grandfather was murdered and we moved to Medellin and finally here to Bogotá.”
“May I ask a question, Uncle Philippe?” asked Carlos, now that a clear picture was forming in his mind.
“Of course, my boy, and I believe I know what you are going to ask.”
“The only difference between the Rodriquez family and the Calderón family, or Cartel, is that one is good and one is bad?”
“I like the way you say that, Carlos. It has a nice ring to it. Yes, the Rodriquez family has always been on the side of justice and the people of Colombia. It has been so since my grandfather was a senior minister a hundred years ago. He formed a secret police force to protect the heads of state. Unfortunately, that protection ended with the murder of Presidential Candidate Luis Carlos Galán in 1989. He was our man and we hoped he would continue to keep Colombia an honest nation. Even as far back as the 1970s we knew of several cabinet ministers in the pay of the Medellin and Cali Cartels and we even performed a few of our own assassinations. Now the Florencia Cartel has well over 30,000 members.”
It was time for some rest and relaxation and Carlos went off to find Sally. A basketball hoop had been found in the hangar and personnel from each of the two air forces were playing a game. Carlos sat down and watched while Sally, Jennifer and a few others dunked it out under the net. Breathless, Sally came up to him and sat down.
“Had an eventful day?” she asked.
“Very interesting,” he replied. “A couple of questions I had always wanted answered since I was a young boy were answered today. I met very interesting people and have learned a lot. We leave tomorrow and fly over to Cali, a smaller city to the west and then on home. Sally, I feel like I’ve have met a lot more of my family and I want to help you check up on your parents. You said you know they are fine, but I think we should take your Pilatus and fly into Flagstaff for a visit.”
